The big boss is reborn and lets himself go.

In Catherine's eyes, the countess's miserable state was nothing. No matter how agonizing her screams or how severe her injuries, it was the punishment she deserved. Compared to the suffering her brother had endured, this pain was insignificant.

Thinking of her brother, Catherine's anger burned even brighter. The torment her brother had endured over the years far surpassed the physical pain she felt now. The excruciating, bone-deep agony had made him wish he were dead. And now, this Countess of Frostbite was alive to suffer such minor punishment—it was far too lenient on her!

Catherine thought to herself, but her hands didn't stop moving. She wanted this woman to taste pain, even if it was just a little, as a consolation to her brother. As for this so-called physical pain, it wouldn't be fatal.

However, her brother Hilbert, behind his gaunt frame, lies a deep emotional trauma. As an experienced doctor, she is naturally able to keenly perceive that her brother suffers from depression. Although Hilbert tries his best to appear normal during the short two days they spend together, she can still clearly feel the pain and repression deep within him.

She knew that her brother Hilbert was suffering not only from the torment of his terminal illness, but also from unspeakable emotional pain. Those negative emotions, buried deep within him for so long, shrouded him like a heavy gloom, gradually eroding his mental world and ultimately leading to severe depression. This mental illness was like an invisible chain, tightly binding Hilbert's soul, preventing him from escaping the prison of suffering.

Catherine knew all too well that this illness was not only a physical torment for patients, but also an unbearable mental anguish. It was like an invisible demon, silently eroding people's will, gradually causing them to lose hope in life, and even involuntarily giving rise to thoughts of ending their own lives.

Recalling her conversation with her brother's adoptive father, she finally understood what had happened. It turned out that the culprits were her brother's adoptive mother and Countess Frostbite! They pressured her brother to marry and have children under the pretext of having an heir. This immense pressure was like a heavy mountain, suffocating her brother and ultimately leading to his depression.

Catherine fell into deep thought: if she hadn't gone to such lengths to force her brother to step forward two days ago, how much longer would it have taken her to find him? And how many more long days would her brother have endured in such agonizing torment during that time? Was she really going to have to watch history repeat itself, leading to the same tragic ending as in her previous life? Thinking of this, Catherine's heart grew heavier, and her movements became more forceful.

After hitting her several times, she slowly stopped and then unconsciously began to swing her aching arms, trying to relieve the muscle fatigue.

See the incomparably noble and elegant Crown Prince Blaine, who sits leisurely on a luxurious sofa. His deep and sharp eyes seem to be able to see through everything in the world, and he has never taken his eyes off his beloved niece Catherine for even a second.

At that moment, Catherine was standing not far away, waving her arms at the person in front of her to relieve the fatigue in her arm muscles. But none of those subtle movements escaped Prince Blaine's keen eyes.

Finally, Prince Blaine slowly opened his beautifully shaped lips and spoke in a deep, magnetic voice: "My dear Catherine, you must be very tired from swinging that stick so much. Have you vented your anger enough? If you still feel it's not enough, you can simply tell that strong bodyguard from before to continue teaching them a lesson. Why bother yourself?"

Prince Blaine's words were like a thunderclap in the room. The previously noisy and chaotic scene instantly fell silent, and everyone turned their heads to look at Prince Blaine, who was sitting on the sofa. However, Catherine was the only one who did not show the same surprise as the others. Instead, she quickly turned around and met Prince Blaine's gaze.

At this moment, everyone else wore expressions of bewilderment and disbelief. They never expected that Prince Blaine, of such high status, would so readily intervene in this conflict, and so blatantly favor Catherine. A suffocating silence fell over the entire scene. Catherine's hands were already aching from typing, but she was still not satisfied and readily accepted her uncle's suggestion.

Catherine tilted her head slightly, her gaze falling on the bodyguard in the sharp suit who had been helping her the whole time. In her usual cool voice, she said, "Brother, I'm really sorry to trouble you again! You'd better teach them a lesson for me. When I return to the palace, I'll give you a big red envelope as payment for your help today."

Hearing Princess Catherine personally give him instructions, the bodyguard felt a little helpless, but dared not show the slightest dissatisfaction on his face. He quickly strode forward, like a gust of wind, and respectfully took the heavy wooden stick from the princess's hand.

Immediately afterwards, the responsibility of beating someone was handed over to the agile bodyguard. Catherine, like a light butterfly, took her brother's hand and gracefully returned to sit on the luxurious sofa. She elegantly crossed her legs, like a queenly flower blooming on a throne.

Time ticked by, and a tense atmosphere filled the hall. Everyone held their breath, the Countess of Frostbite's piercing screams echoing in their ears. However, all of this seemed to have no effect on the brother and sister sitting on the sofa. They remained calm, as if they were enjoying a spectacular performance.

Finally, after a long wait, the two people Princess Catherine was waiting for appeared at the door...

Two middle-aged men dressed in traditional tailcoats followed closely behind the butler, their figures standing out conspicuously in the sunlight.

One of the men was overweight; his round belly stretched his white shirt taut, as if the buttons would burst open at any moment. His sparse hair clung to his forehead, a few strands stubbornly holding their ground, held in place by greasy hair gel. A thick gold chain dangled around his neck, deeply embedded in the layers of flesh, gleaming brightly. His face was covered in stubble, the tips glistening uncomfortably, his cheeks flushed from years of heavy drinking, and his pores unusually large. When he grinned, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes instantly crinkled into a mass of white foam.

The other man presented a stark contrast to the former. He exuded a powerful aura, but it wasn't aggressive; rather, it carried a refined and official air. He stood tall and walked with a steady gait, each step revealing confidence and composure. His face was resolute yet gentle, and his deep eyes gleamed with wisdom, inspiring awe in all who beheld him. His attire was impeccable; the exquisitely tailored tailcoat perfectly accentuated his figure, and every gesture revealed elegant grace.